The
Wind
Rolls
In
On
Cartwheels
Of
Sand,
Each
Grain
Carefully
Planned
To
Coat
Our
Desert
With
A
Scattering
Hand,
Drying
Us
Out
And
Prolonging
The
Drought.
We’re
Waiting
For
A
Flood
Of
Rain
To
Float
Us
Out
Again,
And
We
Study
The
Sky,
Ten
Thousand
Miles
High,
But
It’s
Dry,
Dry,
Dry.